Home is not a place.
\nHome is a time.
\nHome is that time of the night
\nWhere you can feel the whole world breathing
\nAnd the darkness is vast
\nAnd smooths the creases in the daylight world;
\nSoftens the noises.
\nWe are all the same place in darkness.<\/p>\n
Or<\/p>\n
Home is not a place.
\nHome is a person.
\nHome is sitting on a sofa in the twilight
\nWith my brother, discussing Doctor Who.
\nHome was where he hugged me in the playground
\nWhen a teacher was mean, and we were small.
\nHome is when I see him again.<\/p>\n
And<\/p>\n
Home is not a place
\nHome is a person
\nHome is sitting in the passenger seat of my mum\u2019s car
\nPutting the world to rights as she drives us\u2026 wherever.
\nHome was when she took us to the library van
\nOr picked us up from school.
\nHome is whenever I can call my mum.<\/p>\n
And<\/p>\n
Home is not a place
\nHome is a person
\nHome is holding my dad\u2019s hand through the streets of Oslo.
\nHome is when he took me sledging, with my toes packed into boots.
\nHome is when he came to see me when I was grieving,
\nAnd called me his little one again.
\nHome is whenever we can catch up.<\/p>\n
And<\/p>\n
Home is not a place
\nHome is a person
\nHome is my partner\u2019s eyes when he\u2019s excited;
\nHome is in the gentleness of our evenings, in the quiet times, and the endless hugs.
\nHome is the starlight that we share in our hearts
\nAnd the promises and welcome that we hold.
\nHome is whenever we are together.<\/p>\n
And<\/p>\n
Home is yet more people.
\nHome is my cat, the best cat in the world, who sometimes still feels nearby.
\nHome is the bright-bedecked crowd that I dance with.
\nHome is the childhood friends that still love me.
\nHome is wherever I can give my old teddy bear a hug.<\/p>\n
Home is my Nan and my Grandpa,
\nAnd the deeply kind magic they create.
\nHome is my Grandma
\nNo-nonsense, in blouses, who might take the world on and win.
\nHome is my Grandpa
\nAnd the memory boardgames, and tomatoes in a sunny garden.<\/p>\n
The best thing is, my home is not fractured.
\nMy home is unnumbered and abounding.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Home is not a place. Home is a time. Home is that time of the night Where you can feel the whole world breathing And the darkness is vast And smooths the creases in the daylight world; Softens the noises. We are all the same…<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2314,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[7],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-102989","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-marathon-poem"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/102989","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/2314"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=102989"}],"version-history":[{"count":7,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/102989\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":103060,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/102989\/revisions\/103060"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=102989"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=102989"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=102989"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}